Prisoner of Peace
by MooncatX
Summary: Angela Ziegler - Mercy has struck a deal with Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker. If Amelie will allow Dr. Ziegler to remove Talon's kill switches from the former Talon assassin, Widowmaker will switch her allegiance, join Overwatch, but will that be a good thing, or a monumental disaster? And how are her former Talon masters going to react? - F/F, M/F - so far, McCree/Widowmaker (ikr?)
1. Chapter 1

Prisoner of Peace  
An Overwatch Fan Fiction  
By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson  
The sequel to Prisoner of War  
Chapter One

Amelie LaCroix / Widowmaker

"Se prendre un râteau" Amelie explained to McCree, and dragged in a lungful of smoke from one of his illicit handrolls. Tobacco wasn't quite illegal, but restrictions keep the trafficking mostly in the underground markets. Obviously the American cowboy still had ties to his past. "It means to get hit with rake. That feeling of being struck. When someone rejects you."

"Well, I wasn't rejecting you, Sugar Cube." McCree watched the smoke slowly escape her soft, violet blue lips in elegant wisps, "I was rejecting taking advantage of someone I had power over. It would have felt like rape to me. Can't say as it wasn't tempting, but there's some lines I can't cross, and that's one of them."

She handed the hand rolled cigarette back to the American with a sigh. She shifted in the oversized undershirt Reinhardt had donated to her wardrobe. On him it was an undershirt, on her, even belted with one of McCree's spare leather straps, it was a billowing monstrosity that she was pretending was a dress. She was still barefoot and she had no panties. Considering she was no longer strapped bare assed in a gurney, the French assassin would take what she could get.

"So even my shoes were shredded?" Amelie confirmed, kicking a bare foot just to feel the freedom of movement.

"What can I say, Sugar? You could have had anything on you. No point leading Talon to one of the few safe houses we can lay claim to. Shoes, clothes, purse, anything and everything, either chucked or chunked. You know the drill." McCree pulled on the cigarette, tasting smoke on the back of his tongue before continuing, "We'll set you up with something once we get back to the main HQ."

The former Talon agent turned to where Reinhardt was finishing loading the vehicles they were taking. Apparently the building they'd been staying was only a stop over before the Overwatch agents would rendez-vous with their greater number. More Overwatch agents. Just what she needed to complete her day.

"Second thoughts?"

Angela Ziegler, call sign Mercy, approached with her medical supplies in bundles. The golden blonde Swiss doctor watched the former Talon agent with a hint of concern. The past days had been intensely trying on all of them. The situation had changed from having taken Amelie LaCroix captive, as an enemy agent, to an almost complete turn around. Widowmaker was now on provisional liberty, under Angela's aegis as both a founding member of Overwatch, and current team leader of their little group.

"Non." Amelie replied, wrapping her arms around herself to keep the shirt's material closer to her skin. The tattooed sleeve on her right arm read "araignée du soir, cauchemar", "spider of the evening, nightmare" She rubbed a thumb over the words set in a shattered glass stylized web motif. She remembered sitting so patiently while the tattoo artist worked. Moira rubbing her elegant long fingers into her back to relax her as the work progressed, finding the perfect spots to make her arch into the Irish doctor's touch. Moira had her faults, but the touch of her hands had been…

"Amelie?" Angela's voice broke the sniper's drifting thoughts. "We're heading out now. Everything is packed and stored. You can ride with Reinhardt, I'll be with McCree. When we reach HQ, just let me do the talking. If you can… Until they are more used to you…"

"Make no sudden movements?" Amelie LaCroix's voice was dry, even, any irritation or unease hidden. "I understand Doctor Ziegler. I'm an unknown quantity, and I've killed people they either knew or have worked with. They are going to wait to see if I'm just a Trojan Horse after all. A bomb waiting to go off in their midst. I assure you, Angela, I will not be the one to instigate an incident."

The doctor's smile was sweet, but the uncertainty in her face belied assurances that the others in Overwatch would be as forgiving. Amelie wasn't so naive to think that it would be cupcakes and puppies when she emerged in Angela's wake. The other Overwatch agents were going to lose their shit. "Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, mon ange. My die is cast. They will accept me or they will not."

"Don't be so glum, sugar plum." McCree drawled as he ground out his cigarette, "I'll be there, and I think Reinhardt is warming up to you a bit. Just be yourself and in time… Well, I'm sure some of them will come around."

Amelie LaCroix laughed as McCree continued his use of strange American endearments. His rogue manners aside, he lifted her spirits. She had thought it would be une situation délicate after his refusal of her offer of sexual favors for her freedom. Strangely it had not been the case. She knew Angela's actions of giving a Talon's assassin her freedom was due in part to McCree pleading her case. It was just as well he'd refused her. Besides, she could always kill him another day. Today, she would take his arm and let him squire her into the bear's den that was Overwatch Head Quarters.

Angela Ziegler - Mercy

Angela was having second thoughts. And thirds. What had seemed so much more possible hours ago now took on a more daunting task. Jack was going to kill her. Right there, on HQ grounds, Angela Ziegler was a dead woman walking. She'd countermanded his directives and taken it on her own recognizance to offer Widowmaker a provisional Overwatch Agent position. There was precedent with persons such as McCree, and Genji being brought into Overwatch to make amends for their own past crimes. But this was a major leap with Amelie, because there was so much blood on the ground, so many bodies buried. Widowmaker had been Talon's top assassin, with the kill count to match.

But the former Talon agent had chosen to let Angela help her. The medical doctor that she was could not let this opportunity pass by. The opportunity to heal the French woman and bring back the Amelie who had been stolen from them by Talon, it was worth the risk. And so far, no one was dead yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Prisoner of Peace

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson

The sequel to Prisoner of War

Chapter 2

 **Amelie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

Amelie squared her shoulders and followed Mercy through the corridors of the Overwatch headquarters. Some of the hallways were still unfinished, roughly hewn stone where pathways had been hacked out with more utility than any kind of aesthetic. The facilities were less sterile than the last base, but to some degree, much more primitive. The over all feeling she got was of well dug in animal's den. A defensive shelter, ready to be defended by Overwatch's warriors, like some ancient Roman fort. They'd come in at the wolf's hour, between night and dawn, creeping in like children who'd snuck out the evening before, trying to get to their rooms before their parents caught wind of their mischief.

The former Talon assassin wondered if Angela planned it this way, so they would not have to face her Overwatch teammates en masse They met few on their way to the rooms put aside for the return of Ziegler's team. By the time the rest of Overwatch woke, her presence among them would be _fait accompli_. Mercy was sneaky. How odd Amelie should find that so… _charmant._

Those few they did pass were amusingly confused. Double takes, outright disbelief, and no little outrage. She could live with that. Outright fear would have been better, but she doubted someone dressed solely in a man's over large undershirt inspired terror, even if she was one of the world's premiere assassins.

When they reached the team's rooms, Amelie examined Angela's personal bedchamber with curiousity. Even though the Swiss doctor was meticulously neat and orderly with her work, at heart she was a creature of chaos. Angela's bed clothes were scattered everywhere, personal belongings strewn about with careless abandon, hardcover books in teetering towers on every surface. Haphazard stacks of actual paper folders on the floor, a fire hazard and just… _archaïque._

The only neat and tidy item in the entire room was the single large bed that dominated all else. Exquisite. The wooden frame was a rich dark stained black cherry, with comforters and down pillows in softer, blush colors bleeding to darker rose. There was a lush sensuality expressed in that bed. Amelie studied it in quiet contemplation.

Setting her luggage on a nearby armoire, Angela's voice was oddly low and ruff, self conscious.

"Unlike our last accomodation, we are rather crowded in the main base. It's not even a quarter the size of our original HQ. We'll be sharing quarters until our in flux of population settles and more living areas can be free'd up."

" _Je vois_." Amelie's voice was quiet and even.

She'd learned from her experience with McCree. Overwatch agents as a whole seemed uncomfortable with their sexuality, and using it to their advantage. Among Talon agents, trading sexual favors was not rampant, but they were not an uncommon trade good. Talon encouraged using anything and everything at your disposal to move ahead in the organization's hierarchy. Talon was extremely egalitarian that way. Man or Omnic, rich or poor, all were given the chance to excel and climb the ladder of success using any means. Power after all was it's own reward.

So she would move slowly with her _petit ange_. It would be challenging to tarnish that halo of hers. Amelie did so love a challenge. Angela would be claiming the spoils of their devil's pact one way or another. The good doctor had promised after all to look after Amelie's _besoins de base._ And certain needs were more basic than others. Since she no longer had to win her freedom, Amelie could utilize her assets for personal, rather than professional use. Angela Ziegler was a founding member of Overwatch, and held a premiere position of power within their ranks. Tying their fates together could only enhance Amelie's own status, and secure her a certain level of personal safety Two birds, one stone.

 **Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 _Personal Files of Doctor Angela Ziegler -_

 _Patient A has shown genuine willingness to work towards her recovery. Since gaining her provisional freedom, Patient A's overt sexual provocation has lessened considerably. This supports the theory that it was mainly a tool to help effect her escape and a means of defense in a situation where her control over herself and her environment were forcefully taken away…_

Angela stopped mid report to stretch and cast a glance at the subject of her writing. Amelie LaCroix was standing in the room's walk in closet, searching through Angela's clothes. A pair of black suede thigh high boots dropped into the pile of chosen items growing beside the former assassin. Reinhardt's shirt lay discarded over a nearby chair, replaced by a black lace and velvet shirt Angela had bought for a vampire costume but had never gotten to actually wear. It was richly gothic, and fell just barely below the French woman's derriere. Maybe she'd been too hasty about the degree of sexual provocation Amelie LaCroix was expressing. Considering how she dressed for the profession of assassination, maybe Angela didn't know crap about why Widowmaker dressed the way she did. She could just ask.

Amelie had slid her long dancer's legs into the boots, and Angela bit back a cry of envy. Those very boots she had thought so cute and edgy, hadn't looked half so good on herself. Plus, she had found out they were too difficult to walk in with their three inch spiked heels. On the French woman they were downright dangerous. Spiked heels and all, which considered the fluid way the former dancer moved in them, she was _verdammt noch mal,_ sex on a fucking stick! There was no way in hell Angela was going to bring Amelie LaCroix to Jack Morrison and the others looking like an expensive call girl…

"If their minds are too stunned by my outfit, they might forget about how many people I've killed." Amelie addressed the look on the doctor's face. "Really, you would be surprised at what a little flashing of skin can accomplish."

A rap at the door, and McCree sauntered in, without waiting for an invitation, only to stop short with a sharp whistle and a slow rake of his eyes over Amelie's new outfit.

"See? All the blood rushes below the belt. It makes it difficult for them to think. And without combat and the adrenalin of firefight, boom." Amelie gestured to seemingly stricken cowboy.

"Hey now, sugar," Jesse McCree spoke defensively, "I resemble that remark! How come you look more nekkid now than when you were actually stitchless?"

Amelie pulled her still loose hair up behind her head, and managed it into a messy bun. Save for her unusual body tint, she could be any young woman ready for a night of clubbing with friends. Hell, with the current fashion of the day, even the tint would fit. He'd seen more exotic rainbow hues on people on the street. No, what made the blue violet skin stand out was not the color, but the woman who wore the color.

"Thank you McCree. I think I'm ready to face the firing squad." Amelie crossed her arms, and dared Angela to say something.

"Where is Reinhardt?" Angela asked, hoping he'd be able to interject some sanity into the mix with his solid steadfastness.

"Had to go get his squire." Jessie barely snatched back the cigarette he'd been about to light before Angela smacked him upside the head.

"Outside!" Angela barked the order like a sergeant. "God help us all. Let's go see Jack"

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Prisoner of Peace

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson

The sequel to Prisoner of War

Chapter 3

 _NOTE: Part of this chapter was a little on the explicit side, and I couldn't find a way to rate just one chapter as MA + So that part is a designated Side Piece to this chapter and is posted alone as a Prisoner of Peace extra - warning it's rough sex between Amelie LaCroix and Moira O'Deorain and is a 6 year ago flashback that continues the glimpses of how Widowmaker became who she is in the present day. I may have a second Side Piece dealing with Amelie LaCroix and Jesse McCree from events that come up at the end of this chapter, that again will be kind of explicit. Just letting you know in case you want to read those as well._

 **Amelie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

Jack Morrison had changed from the golden haired poster boy that had run Overwatch years ago. Still fit, lean and muscular. Even aged, masculine dominance poured off him in waves. He'd been a born leader since his youth. Now time had taken that golden youth and left a more stark and grizzled alpha wolf in his place. This was an experienced warrior who'd survived wars and infighting and come out less idealistic and far more dangerous.

Amelie watched him stalk the area in front of his closed office with wary, guarded eyes. This was the man who'd stood up for Gerard at their wedding. _**Dieu...**_ If looks could kill she'd would be another casualty. One of many if the looks he gave Angela Ziegler and McCree were anything to go by. The man known as Soldier 76 was not a happy Overwatch Commander.

"You are out of your… " the words that followed were diverse and inventive, and in two cases physically and chronally impossible, growing louder and more emphatic as he finished with an explosive "MIND!

He paused breathing like a bull in the field, heavy with menace.

"That, " Jack Morrison said, more quietly but with greater threat as he pointed at Amelie, "that… _**person**_ \- and I use the term loosely, is _**NOT**_ joining Overwatch."

"You cannot countermand my decision, Jack. I have last authority for my division." Angela Ziegler stood arms crossed, chin up, determination in her celestial blue eyes.

"What you _**have**_ is a known terrorist who by your last report, was shooting to kill your team only days ago." Jack Morrison growled out, stalking past Angela to loom over the woman in question.

"I buried Gerard LaCroix, and mourned both his and his wife's death. The Amelie LaCroix I knew wasn't a murderess. To me, she _**DIED**_ with Gerard."

" _Je suis d'accord_." Amelie looked up into the cold fury in Morrison's storm blue eyes "That Amelie _**is**_ dead. She died of torture and abuse, hopeless and abandoned. She died _**alone**_!"

Morrison froze, steel blue eyes blazing into lambent gold, as Amelie continued.

"She died, Jack, naked in the dark, cold and shamed in ways to sicken hardened souls. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, _**old soldier**_? You've seen the reports on those unfortunate enough to have been taken by Talon. As Overwatch Commander, you've even seen some of it _**up close**_."

He fell back a step as she pressed forward, letting the words she had never spoken to anyone else before, fall from her lips like raw wounds, " _ **That**_ is what happened to Amelie LaCroix. _**That**_ is how she died. Too broken to scream anymore. Too _**used**_ to want to live. Dying for her was a _**gift**_."

"If Amelie LaCroix is dead, then who the hell are you?" Jack's words had lost the thunder he'd started with, making them strangely plaintive.

Amelie turned away, no longer able to look at him, but answering his question with the best answer she had.

"Someone who is professional." Her voice was flat, dead even to her own ears. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of Jack's presence before something inside her broke beyond repair. "Don't let sentiment cloud your judgement, Morrison. I'm a set of skills and talents that can be an asset for your new Overwatch."

"I can't trust you." Jack stated bluntly.

"Then don't." Amelie looked back at Jack, seeing Gerard's ghost by his side.

"If it helps… think of me as a weapon." Amelie began walking away, her vision strangely misty. She was blind to everything except the door that would let her escape this room. Escape Jack. All she wanted to do was to go, but something stilled her hand on the door handle. Gathering her will, she turned one last time. Gerard's ghost was gone as if it had never been, and all she saw was Jack who had once been Amelie LaCroix's friend too. His soldier eyes, now shuttered once more.

"Mourn the dead Amelie as you like, Morrison. The woman before you now is a weapon that is in your hands, instead of Talon's grasp." the dark haired woman finally opened the door, her words carrying back to the Overwatch Commander, "Don't deny me Jack. _Use me_. You know what I do best. Point me at a target, and let me loose. I'll get the job done."

 **Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

The walk back from Jack Morrison's office was subdued. Angela's heart hurt inside her chest. She wasn't sure what to say. The meeting with Overwatch's Commander had been as awful as she'd feared, but for totally different and confusing reasons. She'd forgotten that Jack had been close to _**both**_ Gerard and his wife Amelie. He'd been a frequent visitor to their home in France, dined out with them often when their duties brought them to the same cities at the same time. Hadn't he even vacationed with them a few times? The down home Indiana farm boy made good, and the sophisticate French couple, you might have thought they would have nothing in common, but opposites, as they say attract.

After Amelie left the room, it was like Jack had been kicked by a mule, but he'd given his official authorization to Angela to bring Widowmaker into Overwatch. Even if all the others disagreed, the team wasn't a democracy, and two founders was enough to make a quorum. Angela and McCree had left quickly after that, finding Amelie only a little ways down the hall, staring blankly at the rough hewn walls.

Now, as they headed through the corridors once more, Amelie had gone distant and cold, barely answering when addressed, her gold eyes glittering in pyrrhic triumph. Hers was a victory paid for in pain. There was a stiff tightness to Amelie's gait now. No longer fluid, she stalked down the halls, booted heels striking so sharply the doctor almost expected a trail of sparks to follow in Amelie's wake.

The HQ was well woken up now, busy hustle bustling. As they moved through the thickening crowds, more and more people were becoming aware of Amelie's presence. In no time, word of Widowmaker being loose in the HQ would be on everyone's lips.

"McCree," Amelie's voice was low, almost inaudible. "Do you have anything… stronger… than tobacco?"

"Sorry sugar plum. I don't keep the stronger stuff in Head Quarters." McCree apologized.

Amelie's eyes turned to Angela.

"If you feel you need to settle your mood , I may have something. But I'd prefer to have a thorough blood work before prescribing any medications." Angela's prim reply made the darker haired woman shake her head in refusal.

Amelie knew the golden haired, Swiss doctor, would have her on an exam table soon enough. She just would prefer not to hurry that part of their relationship.

"Where can I go to shoot something?" the former Talon sniper finally asked.

Angela bit her lower lip. Technically, now that Jack had signed off, Angela could issue Amelie firearms. But the idea of giving Widowmaker a gun in the middle of Overwatch HeadQuarters didn't seem like the best idea.

"I need _**something**_ , Angela." Amelie stated, lips pulled back into a feral baring of teeth, "If I can not medicate, and I can not shoot something, then I'm going to borrow McCree here and take the edge off another way. You are welcome to join us."

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie made a face. The Overwatch doctor had gotten her a gun.

A biotic healing gun.

Aiming at the moving robot targets, Amelie viciously healed them in a flurry of of pin point marksmanship. Holographic emitters spewed out happy face icons that giggled and laughed in a rapture of celebration. Someone had hacked them. Normally a cascade of golden crosses filled the air to signify healing, but someone had switched out the images for cutesie emoticons. Amelie swallowed a groan of despair. Jesse McCree however was having a grand time, having traded in his normal guns for a pair of healing pistols, he was tagging targets with a wild abandon, making "peu, peu" noises.

"Don't be a spoil sport Amelie!" He yelled as he darted past her to take out one of her targets. This time little gold hearts with wings erupted like a flock of birds, leaving a shower of holographic feathers to rain down on Amelie. Jesse laughed at the former Talon agent's startled face.

Lifting one arm, and not bothering to sight, Amelie put a biotic bullet into McCree's face.

"Hey now!" the cowboy yelled in pained surprise, "That smarts!"

"Good! You could use some!" Amelie shouted back.

And then it was on.

Overwatch agent vs former Talon assassin, ignoring the robots they stalked each other through the practice range, each trying to get the drop on the other. They each managed to score a half dozen hits on the other before running out of biotic healing ammo. Leaving them tired, and almost bruised where the healing properties of the biotic tech had taken away the minor wounds they inflicted on each other.

Amelie and McCree collapsed finally, lying together on the floor of the practice range, panting. Winded and no little tired from their frantic activity. Sharing a look only those who lived by the gun could share. Neither could say who moved first. But one moment they were looking into each others eyes, and they next they were entangled, kissing wildly. There was nothing gentle in their mutual hunger, McCree tasted like tobacco and gunpowder. Amelie didn't have time to wonder how she tasted to the cowboy, because his hands were gripping her hair tightly, moving over her with rough greed, claiming her. His teeth nipped her throat, making her cry out.

Amelie's hands were loosening the belt holding McCree's pants, she didn't care about being in the middle of Overwatch's shooting range the sound of gunfire echoing from other rooms surrounding them. No one else had chosen to use the biotic gun range, the combat gun sections being far more popular. That was good enough for her. With a cry of triumph, she managed to win McCree free of his denim jeans. Her need was urgent, and she felt McCree's growl of agreement as his mouth once more devoured hers.

The upside of having no panties, was that all it took was for her to straddle McCree and sink down, accepting his hard, ridged length in the soft tightness between her thighs. It took one delicious, torturous, long moment to take in all of him. It felt like he would split her apart. It felt like taking a perfect shot.

And then he began to move.

To be continued.


	4. Interlude One

Prisoner of Peace

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson

The sequel to Prisoner of War

Chapter 4

 **Olivia Colomar - Sombra**

 **Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

 **Interlude One**

Sombra's eyes never left her view screens as her hands cupped popcorn from the big plastic bowl besides her and shoved it into her mouth.

" _Dios mío, Araña. Salva un caballo, monta un vaquero!_ " the hacker muttered under her breath, chewing the buttery snack automatically but not really tasting the salty popcorn goodness, too enraptured by her captured security feed.

"Have you located her yet?!" Gabriel Reyes growled as he half stalked, half glided into the room, still outfitted in his field Reaper gear.

" _Si_." Sombra answered around another fistful of popcorn.

"Is she dead or alive?" Reyes demanded, heading over.

"Oh, I'd say alive." Sombra spoke around her popcorn. "Very much alive."

On her vid screen, Jesse McCree had gotten the black velvet and lace shirt off of Widowmaker, leaving her bare ass naked save for a sexy pair of black, thigh high boots, and her long, loose hair which had escaped from the makeshift bun it had been poorly contained by.

"Oh for the love…!" Reyes eyes fixed on the action on her main video feed, projected only a few feet beyond her head. He wasn't looking at the faces, and it didn't dawn on him just who the latina hacker was spying on. Just what they were obviously doing. Sombra had tweaked the filters on her incoming feed to get the best quality definition, SHR. Super Hi Rez. "Are you watching _**PORN**_ right now? You are supposed to be finding out where Widowmaker disappeared to! It's been over 48 hours since we were supposed to rendez-vous in Morroco. Talon HQ is looking to have us check in, ALL of us, in another 24!"

Sombra split the audio into the rooms existing speakers, and the sound of rough vigorous sex filled their hotel room, reverberating through the walls. What was clearly Widowmaker's voice crying out in her distinctive French, words Sombra had never thought to hear her say. Filthy, filthy, delicious words dripping with sex and violence, just like the actions taking place on screen.

Reaper went still as a statue, only his face mask keeping his expression from showing the pure shock that rocked through him. Widowmaker wasn't dead or locked up in some Overwatch cell as they'd suspected. She was instead having her brains hammered out by his former BlackWatch team mate. Jesse McCree's hard driving thrusts were nearly manic, their violence encouraged by LaCroix's throaty cries of pleasure as he buried himself in her relentlessly. Reyes now registered the familiar blue violet of her very naked skin, her trademark tattoos, and watched Jesse violently fuck her as if the world were about to end.

He focused on Widowmaker's face, the fine boned aristocratic face that he'd actually been worried about since seeing the uploaded videos on the AllVu network. Video that showed her being struck down and then taken by the same Overwatch team they'd fought against only hours earlier. Overwatch containment protocol had probably changed since he led BlackWatch, but he didn't think it had changed _**this**_ much.

Reyes watch Jesse take his sometimes partner and team mate with a feeling he couldn't describe. They'd only ever been professional, platonic, co-workers. He'd never really even thought of her as a woman before. The supple bounce of her bared breasts and her now wordless noise made her femaleness blatantly clear.

Without tearing her eyes from the visuals, Sombra held the popcorn bowl out and shook it, "Want some?"

"The _**fuck**_! Sombra!" Gabriel finally managed, grabbing the popcorn bowl away from her.

"Yes. I think that is what they are doing." Sombra said around her popcorn, wishing she had thought to get a soda as well before her last hacking session.

"Are you recording this?!" He asked exasperated. Still too shocked to comment beyond that.

"You bet your sweet boop I am." Sombra's laughter made her accidently swallow a popcorn the wrong way, and she spent a moment trying not to choke, coughing violently. Before finally gasping, "Don't worry, I'll make you copies. Damn, I'm going to rewatch this over and over. It's so much better than professionals going at it. You can tell he's really drilling her hard. Don't you just love all the noise she makes? Who knew the spider bitch could moan like that? So hot!"

Reyes face palmed his skull mask. This is what he had to work with. At least Widowmaker had been work place professional in her interactions. Well. Had been. How the hell was he supposed to react to this?

 **End Interlude One**


	5. Chapter 5

**PRISONER OF PEACE**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson

Sequel to Prisoner of War

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie slumped against McCree's chest, luxuriating in the warmth of his body. She was always much more sensitive and tactile after satisfying sex. Jesse had proven that both his stamina and recovery speed were a cut above the rest. He'd stripped down and laid out his poncho like a blanket, and laid back onto it, pulling Amelie into his arms. She was too spent to resist. Her bones felt like warm butter. He made molasses slow love to her then, taking his time to taste her, caress her, scraping his teeth against her before nipping insistently at her neck and shoulders, at the swell of her breasts. He loved her breasts with the wet heat of his mouth. His tongue and lips worked with exquisite experience, turning her knees to jelly, leaving her needing him inside her again.

This time he rolled over her, pinning her to the ground, and oh so slowly ground into her, controlling the pace as he watched her face. Eyelids fluttering, mouth open in a wordless keen, Amelie met his slow, strong thrusts, arching to take more of him inside her. Jesse McCree loved watching a woman come. He loved watching _**this**_ woman come. He could tell she was one of the ones who was extra sensitive after sex. He loved overwhelming her senses with even more sex after she was all tuned up, throttle on high. As long as no one disturbed them, he'd take the opportunity to bring her to pleasure over and over again, till she utterly dissolved.

 **Olivia Colomar - Sombra**

Sombra's amethyst eyes were huge as her vid screens continued to show McCree take Widowmaker again, and again... Was this vaquero for reals? He was just unstoppable. Her eyes flicked over to Reaper. She could almost see a blush aura radiate off his skull mask. "So not work safe." he was muttering again. Since Reyes wasn't leaving, Sombra decided to ignore him.

 **Interlude 2**

 **Lena Oxton - Tracer**

Tracer and Winston had just got back from an escort mission, flush with success. There was a carrot cake slice in the commissary with Lena's name on it. Thick, sweet cream cheese frosting… and it counted as a vegetable, right? Humming a happy tune, Oxton nearly ran into D. Va, who was hurtling down the hall from the opposite direction.

"Lena, Lena, Lena!" Hana Song's high pitched voice squealed through the hallway. "Have. You. HEARD?!"

"Heard? Heard what, luv?" Tracer skidded to a stop, while Hana all but tackled her.

"WIDOWMAKER IS HERE!" the Mech pilot squealed so loudly, Tracer's eyes crossed. Then the meaning of Hana's words hit her.

Widowmaker?!

"Someone's finally caught her?!" Tracer exclaimed, shocked.

But not as shocked as when Hana dropped her voice to a low toned whisper, but holding her hands to her mouth megaphone style, breathed out, " _ **Re Cruit Ed HER!**_ "

Tracer's stare of disbelief momentarily silenced Hana Song, but only for a moment.

"I know! Right?!" Hana hopped in place like a manic bunny. "The word is she seduced an entire team, or they seduced her… But anyway, someone got seduced. They say she came in _**naked**_ and that Mercy had her on a leash and collar. Like, _**HARDCORE**_!"

Now Tracer was fairly certain that everything Hana was saying was balderdash.

"That can't be right." Lena countered, "Commander Morrison wouldn't let that happen!"

"They say he used to be in a _**menage a' trois**_ with Widowmaker _**and**_ her husband. The one she killed! They say she killed her husband to be with the Commander, but that he turned her down because he was in love with her husband, and _**that**_ is why she joined Talon in the first place!" Hana was practically vibrating with the gossip that had been spilling through HQ since early morning.

This was not _**all**_ people were saying. But it was the top juicy bits. Hana didn't actually _**believe**_ any of it was true, but for the same reason people enjoy tabloid holos, Hana Song loved the wild and outrageous stories, the more wild and outrageous the better! If nothing else they gave her very interesting mental pictures. When she had tried to picture Mercy in dominatrix gear, the blood left her head and Hana Song became dizzy.

"You're having me on!" Tracer grinned, "Good one, Song! You really had me going for a moment there.

"Hmph!" Hana pouted, Yes, it was all ridiculous. She had wanted Tracer to speculate with her, not freeze up. _**That**_ was the fun part.

A younger girl with fair skin and reddish hair that was caught at the back of her head in a pony tail, all but ran to Tracer. Her face pale, showed off her freckles in sharp relief.

"Brigitte!" Tracer's greeting lacked in manners, but that made it seem more genuine. "Hana here almost got me!"

"Lena, "Brigitte said, voice now low and careful, "Did you know Widowmaker is now part of Overwatch?"

"Ohhhh not you too!" Tracer groaned, "Really? Is gossiping all the rage now?"

"Gossip?" Brigitte looked scandalized, "What gossip? I'm talking about one of Talon's top assassins _**defecting**_ to Overwatch!"

"Yeah, _**gossip**_. That would _**never**_ happen in Real Life." Tracer's confident tone was now just a bit cocky, "Widowmaker, here? As an Overwatch agent? Hah! I'd eat my chronal accelerator!"

"Widowmaker IS here." Brigitte spoke sharply. "Reinhardt was on the team that brought her in. He just told me about it all. Mercy's standing as her sponsor. Commander Morrison already sent out an email to announce our new addition. Tracer, it's true."

Brigitte ended more gently than she started, seeing how the news hit the smaller, slender woman. Reaching out a hand, Brigitte gently pushed close Tracer's dropped jaw.

"Best be deciding if that time machine of yours goes better with ketchup or mayo."

End Interlude 2


	6. Chapter 6

**Prisoner of Peace**

By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson

Chapter 6

 **TALON HEADQUARTERS**

 **ROME**

Akande Ogundimu, the man known as Doomfist, brooded at the council table, fingers steepled as he looked at the repeating viral video on AllVu. Starting first with the brutal hammer strike that smashes across the back of Amelie LaCroix's skull, the bloody pool rapidly spreading around her, then the golden glow of Mercy's resurrection healing.

"Your analysis, Doctor?" His voice was a rich, earthy rumble, slow and deliberate.

"LaCroix is a curious case. Her induction to Talon defines the term, non-standard." the cool female voice came out of the darkness."

"I've seen her file. I believe you are understating the situation." Akande noted.

Dr Moira O'Deorain leaned into the circle of light cast over the conference table.

"She's unique. The conditioning she was put through was severe even by Talon standards. So severe, attempts to replicate the process creating her has been unsuccessful. Talon tried numerous trials. Of the Black Widow project, Amelie LaCroix was the sole success." Moira smiled thinly, and then emphatically divested herself from the failed project, "Most subjects died during the thought reform process itself. It was a messy, wasteful operation. A project, I may add, that I had no part of, nor approved."

Akande nodded his acknowledgement, and Moira continued

"Of the survivors of the thought reform, another majority of those had to be put down after all. Their minds were too damaged for viable reconstruction. The small, whittled down handful remaining were made into sleeper agents and deployed."

"You said that LaCroix was the only success." Doomfist's eyes watched with sharp interest.

"Those other sleeper agents were disasters waiting to happen." Moira's sneer was laced with disgust, "Even with training from Talon, they were ordinary women to begin with. They did not have what it took to be field agents. Their imprinted covert skills were rudimentary at best. Their most effective use was simple murder / suicide scenarios. They were hand grenades, one use weapons."

"Go on." Akande encouraged, curiousity shone in his gimlet gaze. "Why were the others such failures?"

"When it came right down to it, the deployed were not able to pass scrutiny. They were embarrassingly easy to detect. The erasure of their core personality left nothing for a new persona to realistically re-establish itself. They were detained, and per programming, suicided. There were only two exceptions. Amelie LaCroix, and Solange DeMorney. LaCroix was precise and efficient with her kills. DeMorney was a psychopathic killer with no boundaries. She killed indiscriminately, including her handlers, random bypassers, pets and livestock. We put her down like the mad dog she was."

Moira continued, "Which leaves us with LaCroix. She succeeded. Survived. Excelled. It was like she was born to become an assassin."

"Your explanation?" Akande settled back in his seat.

"I believe Amelie LaCroix's intrinsic skills pre-conditioning were ideally suited for her transformation. As well, she has a curious mental resilience. Instead of becoming brittle and shattering, as most will, her self identity adapted, taking on new modes that would promote her survival. Not unlike a chameleon that matches itself to it's background. Amelie is one of those natural few survivors."

Moira shrugged her shoulders, carelessly elegant as she lit a smoke stick. The scented vapor spiraled in the air. "LaCroix was stable in the field for at least two years before being presented as a candidate for Talon's enhancement program."

"Your work. Dr. O'Deorain" Akande acknowledged, "I've noted your successes are noticeably individualistic."

"Not cookie cutter assembly, you mean." Moira's smile was fox sly, "Each subject brings their own strengths to the process. I knew LaCroix for the magnificent creature she would be, from the first moment I saw her."

"The fact you wanted to fuck her had nothing to do with it?" Doomfists, blunt statement didn't faze the doctor.

"I wouldn't have wanted to fuck her if she wasn't a prime choice, in every way." Moira smiled, "And she was exceptional, in bed, in the field, and in the lab."

"And you put the appropriate fail safes into place."

"Indeed."

"Then why, is she still alive."

Moira tilted her head in thought, bringing her smoke stick to her lips before finally laying out her personal theory. "Angela Ziegler."

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prisoner of Peace**

By Mooncatx the Bliss Crimson

Chapter 7

Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker

The tingle of healing brought Amelia awake. Blinking, she recognized the practice range where she had her Biotic Gun battle with McCree, followed by fiercely passionate sex. She was covered with Jesse McCree's shirt, his arms still wrapped around her. His scent clung to her skin like she'd bathed in him. She let out a little moan… A delicious ache pervaded her entire being. The ache of pure, animal satisfaction.

Stretching out, catlike, Amelie went from lying with McCree, to standing alone. Her legs didn't even wobble. She was actually proud of that, since at the moment Amelie wasn't sure she had bones anymore. Angela's black lace and velvet shirt slid back on as if it had never been roughly dragged off her body so that McCree could ravage her naked flesh. She ran her fingers back through her tousled hair, trying to tame it into something more orderly looking, less ridden hard and put away wet. The cowboy only had on his boots, denim jeans, and a smile. His eyes were lazy with satisfaction. She wasn't the only one to have enjoyed their _faire des galipettes_ _ **.**_

"Feeling good, sugar cube?" He asked, tapping one of the biotic pistols by his hand, "Looked like you needed a little pick me up."

She watched him pull on his shirt with lazy contentment still pooling through her veins. The poncho he just threw over one shoulder, not bothering to settle it in it's usual manner.

" _Qui réchauffe le cœur"_ Amelie replied, a slight smile on her lips "I feel like a new woman."

Without needing to speak, they each fell into a comfortable quiet as they straightened up the practice range, putting the guns back into their secure lockers. They left as they had come, but in much better spirits. Amelie strangely had a feeling to smile at nothing.

 **Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

Reaper listened to the voice over the secured line, glad his mask kept anyone from seeing his expression. The shocks of the day just kept coming.

"..been confirmed by our informants in Overwatch, that LaCroix has switched her allegiance. Commander Morrison made general announcements through the internal Overwatch public address systems for Overwatch personnel to consider Widowmaker as part of Overwatch."

Reaper said nothing. It was a given that if Widowmaker had turned her coat, then as her team mates, he and Sombra would be under highest scruitiney.

"You and Sombra are to establish contact with LaCroix. If she is being held by Overwatch under duress, you are to extract her for debrief at main HQ in Rome. Make no mistake, the high ups are paying personal attention to the situation. If Widowmaker has been recruited by Overwatch, become compromised in truth, you are to execute a full in field interrogation and terminate **with extreme prejudice."**

"Understood. Reaper out" Gabriel acknowledged the orders and cut the transmission.

"Are we really going to off _la Araña?_ " Sombra had already packed and was ready to go, everything she needed in a small duffle bag already slung over one shoulder.

"We will do our job according to orders." Reaper stated. Mind already racing over exit strategies. Even if Widowmaker were being held against her will, even if the remaining team followed orders to the exact detail, this could go wrong in the worst way. They probably were already under surveillance.

Reaper put a finger over where his mouth would be on the mask, shaking his head slowly, and continued to speak, "If she has no good explanation for her actions, we will terminate with extreme predjudice."

"Ohhh kay." Sombra got the message. She wondered if mind blowing sex counted as a good reason. Probably not. But, hey! They had orders that would allow them to infiltrate Overwatch HQ. Maybe she should sample some of the goodies for herself! Bonus!"

Reaper watched a little smile light up Sombra's face and wondered what she was thinking. Then decided he was better off NOT knowing.

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

McCree and Amelie had returned to Angela's rooms, to rejoin Dr. Ziegler and Reinhardt for an afternoon debrief that was scheduled later. While she was not clinging to Jesse's arm, Amelie was planning to stick close to Angela and McCree as physically possible, until she had established allies. It would do her little good to allow Doctor Ziegler to remove her kill switches, only to have one of Amelie's new Overwatch team mates to do the honors.

Angela was strangely quiet. Several times it seemed as if she wanted to discuss something with her and McCree, only to turn interesting shades of red, and walk off. Finally McCree took the bull by the horns and confronted the blonde woman.

"Spit it out, Doctor Ziegler, " McCree planted himself in front of Angela, "You're walking around like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Angela's expression was tightly shuttered, but she gave off waves of discomfort.

"There is no good way to say this." Angela finally said.

Amelie's eyes narrowed. Whatever the doctor wanted to discuss with them, was clearly not going to be good.

"Earlier I accessed security footage. To check up on you." Angela was now a deep rose shade, but she continued, face flaming. "There are cameras in the practice ranges."

McCree face palmed. Amelie laughed. Was _**that**_ all?

"Did you see anything you liked, _mon ange_?" Amelie asked, watching the color in the doctor's face grow even more red. She wondered if Angela had watched _**ALL**_ the cameras had captured, and if she'd made a copy for herself.

"What I am trying to tell you both, I put the camera feed under security lockdown, top officer access only!"

"Rank hath it's privilege?" Amelie questioned dryly, and then it was Jesse McCree's turn to laugh.

"Laugh, both of you! But I am not the only one who accessed that feed!" Angela continued, arms crossed, glaring at both Amelie and McCree and their inappropriate amusement.

Sobering, McCree shot Angela a look of concern, "Who?"

Closing her eyes, Angela had to take a moment, before revealing the rest. "Morrison. And… someone designated as Grand Pooh Bah Sugar Skull?"

"Sombra." Amelie identified the hacker, and pinched the bridge of her nose, not sure now whether to laugh or cry. "She was part of my Talon team from Morocco. She probably was trying to track me down. Looks like she succeeded. Talon knows I'm with Overwatch."

McCree and Ziegler both stared at her, a mix of grim understanding and sympathy.

"Annnd.. Depending on Sombra's mood, McCree and I may wind up the stars of a World Net sex vid."

"Surely you are joking!" Angela exclaimed, a stricken look in her blue eyes.

McCree looked like someone had knocked the air out of him.

"It will blow over." Amelie shrugged her shoulders, "It's not like it can damage my reputation any more than being one of the best at professional murder in the world."

"Guess I gotta work on my autograph." McCree had decided to take the lighter view of recent events, seeing as Amelie wasn't coming apart over it.

"And requests for private performances." Amelie added deadpan.

"Are you _**both**_ mad?" Angela Ziegler was the most upset of the three, and she wasn't even in the damn video feed!

Not that she wanted to be with the assassin and the cowboy _**that**_ way. She was _**not**_ feeling left out at all. She was concerned for them, because they didn't seem to have the sense to be concerned for themselves.

"You two are utterly without shame! Everyone might be watching you both screwing like rabbits RIGHT NOW!" she admonished, trying to get across how serious the situation was.

"Then this might be the best time to go grab some grub." McCree opined, his stomach beginning to growl. "If everyone is busy watching porn, it will cut the lines down in the commissary."

Amelie watched the blonde woman biting her lower lip, trying to keep her composure in the face of their indifference. Gently, unsure why she needed to, the former Talon assassin reached out and stroked the softness of Angela's flushed check, trying to sooth the doctor's distress.

"Do not be so upset for us, _mon ange_. If we were bothered by people seeing us , we would not have shared our bodies in a public place. I am _bien dans sa peau_. Comfortable in my skin."

Amelie drew closer to the Overwatch doctor, noting how very blue, and wide her eyes were. Bringing her lips close to Angela's ear, she felt the blonde woman shiver as she spoke softly, "I kill people as my profession, by comparison, uncomplicated sex is the most _innocent_ of pastimes."

Angela made a quiet, half strangled sound in the back of her throat, then bolted for the door. "Fine! If you two are not bothered, neither am I!"

The high color in her cheeks belied the doctor's spoken words, but in accord, Jesse McCree and Amelie decided to take the doctor's acceptance at face value.

"Then let us go to lunch. I'm hungry too." Angela stated more firmly, certain that keeping her mouth full of food would probably keep her from saying anything more that could make the situation more awkward. Could it get more awkward? She didn't want to find out.

 **Overwatch HQ Food Court**

Apparently, no sex tapes were distracting Overwatch personnel. The commissary was packed. As Angela's small group moved it's way towards the cafeteria style lunch bar, they were joined by Reinhardt and a russet haired girl, so fresh faced she seemed to be barely legal.

"...les prendre au berceau." Amelie murmured to herself. It was almost indecent, how young Overwatch was recruiting.

"This is my goddaughter, Brigitte!" Reinhardt was obviously proud of the girl, introducing her to Amelie. She took it as a positive sign that he felt comfortable enough to introduce someone he cared about to a seasoned killer.

"Enchanté, Brigitte. I am Amelie LaCroix. You may call me Amelie."

Amelie held out her hand to the girl, who clasped it briefly, as if to evaluate the woman before her by the grip of the seemingly delicate violet blue hand. Brigitte's expression was neutral.

"Widowmaker." Brigitte's voice was clear, carrying. People around them paused, and the whispers were audible, surrounding them like the rustle of leaves in a strong fall wind.

Amelie felt a prickle of danger, the fine hair at the nape of her neck all but rising as dozens of unfriendly eyes now openly scoped her out, taking in the black lace and velvet, the boots, the hair she'd taken a moment to comb out, still long and loose over her shoulders. The former Talon agent before them in the cool, violet blue flesh.

"If you prefer." Amelie's voice was calm, casually shifting her stance to combat ready. She had told Angela she wouldn't start anything. But were something to begin, the assassin would not go down without a fight.

"Welcome to Overwatch." Brigette's open acceptance sent another wave of whispers through onlookers.

" _Ce fut un plaisir"_ Amelie's response was quiet, but clear, "It's been my pleasure."

She heard McCree coughing into his hand, beside her. Angela shot the cowboy a warning look.

"Wilhelm, will you and Brigitte be joining us?" Angela asked the duo.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mercy." Reinhardt spoke, voice booming thunder, "We'll be going to debrief together afterwards. Brigitte, get us a table, I'll bring a tray for you!"

Following her godfather's directive, Brigitte went to secure them a place to sit in the already crowded eating area. Amelie didn't doubt the girl would succeed at her mission. The intense regard of the room had slipped away, though there were still looks and whispers, the sense of potential threat had ebbed. There was more Reinhardt's goddaughter than her fresh face. Amelie filed the information away, and went to fill a food tray.

A bowl of mixed fresh fruits. A cup of yogurt. A slice of grilled chicken breast, followed by a half portion of baked cod. She contemplated the dessert section. There was one slice of carrot cake. It had far too much cream cheese frosting, but since Talon knew she was alive and at Overwatch HQ, she would probably be assassinated before the calories could turn to fat. A half smile on her lips, she put it on her tray, and followed the others to the table Brigitte had taken and held for them. As she seated herself, Amelie heard a pure wail of distress echo through the commissary.

"Noooooooooooooooo!"

Heads turned, then dismissed the mournful cry as Tracer dramatically pointed to the empty dessert slot. "My carrot cake! Robbed! I've been robbed, I say!"

"Lena! I _**told**_ you we should have gotten lunch first!" Hana Song scolded her friend, "No one cares what you wear to the commissary."

Both girls were in matching shorts and camisole top sets. Hana in blush peach, and Tracer in sunny daffodil yellow. They'd even gotten themed barrettes, Hana's, her stylized bunny logo, and Tracer's, a set of stylized wings.

"But, nobody EVER chooses the carrot cake but me!" Lena complained, "That's why they normally set out just one piece!"

"So, someone else felt like carrot cake today, it's not the end of the world." the mech pilot sniffed, "Get something else. Look, there is chocolate brownies! We can both get one! If we're doing twinsies today, it will look super cute on my vlog! C'mon! Winkie face!"

Amelie looked at her tray. Everyone else at the table looked at her tray. Rather, they looked at the single slice of carrot cake there. Shrugging one shoulder, Amelie took her fork, and slid it into the luscious cream cheese frosting. As if sensing her presence, Tracer's head turned slowly in the former Talon agent's direction. Eyes blinking in disbelief, Tracer watched the first bite of her prized desert slide between a pair of soft blue lips.

"Mmm… " Amelie moaned, her pleasure unfeigned. It tasted good. She licked the remains of the frosting off the fork slowly, and slid a sly glance at the time traveling Overwatch agent.

"There just ain't no justice." Tracer whispered.

To be continued.


End file.
